The Good, the Bad, and the Just Plain Lunatic~God and Gary Bauer: To Hell and Beyond

The Good, the Bad, and the Just Plain Lunatic; God and Gary Bauer: To Hell and Beyond

A Book Review By Christina "Harlow" Marlowe

October 2006

This is the unforgettable story of the mischievous and madcap adventures of a conspicuously homely man with rather unfortunate impediments who sets about on an hysterical yet curiously spiritual journey to the godforsaken hinterland of Palestine only to find his quaint yet daft psychotic idees fixees questioned with ruthless penetration, mercilessly mocked with scorn and contempt and, in every hilarious and uplifting twist and turn, totally dispelled.

This is a heartwarmingly profane and delightfully irreverent account of one man's unassailable yet thoroughly groundless convictions, unbending yet decidedly ridiculous notions and zealously dogmatic yet perfectly asinine beliefs that prove to be, through each one of his fanatically walleyed and dangerously zany escapades, utterly and completely insane.

This wonderfully witty and fun-loving book is simply chockfull of colorful encounters with smarmy, half-witted and, perhaps most telling, truly profoundly disturbed characters:

Gus, the lovable and hilarious town pedophile who cuts a dashing figure among the ladies in bible study class until they begin to notice strange and indefinable quirks that leave everyone guessing at his true occupation.

The widow down the road, Priscilla Boneminder, who seems friendly at first but always eventually gives way to horrible fits of delusion and unspeakable flatulence, all whilst repeatedly shrieking "Tommyrot!!! It's all TOMMYROT!!!!!!"

The black Wal-Mart assistant manager who never gets promoted because of an uncontrollable, indefatigable habit of breaking into song and dance whenever he hears anyone utter the phrase "oy gevalt" during his swing shift.

The sinister and humorless high school principal who, while bitterly nurturing a lifelong desire to be boxing champion, dodges and weaves relentlessly whenever he is questioned about school curricula or the small girl discovered down in the well.

Otis, the ineffectual mayor and the angry town drunk who drinks home-brewed concoctions from dawn till dark and belittles young children in the schoolyard.

Upon mere passing reflection, this book offers a delightful glimpse, a window, into the world of true and fundamental insanity; the main character's fruitless quest for any rhyme or reason, and his ultimate realization that there indeed is no other hell quite as entertaining as the one created by oneself, one's own determined and profound stupidity, and the incomparable, grasping wickedness that lies therein.

At last this astonishing portrayal of "real" Americans provides an incomprehensible insight into guttersnipe, the lobotomized masses, the "average, white-bread" simpletons' inability to comprehend anything at all, no matter how clear and predictable. In the end, the reader must come to two glaringly obvious realizations: 1. Hell hath no fans and, perhaps most important, 2. I'd rather sleep with satan.

Postscript:

a few of my personal thoughts on god and religion versus daft delusion and other serious-but-amusing psychiatric disorders:

No doubt all the decent, god-fearing Americans will be up in arms--particularly our favorite friend, Gary Bauer, who chairs the U.S. government's own "Family Values" Committee; this book will indeed rise to the top of the U.S. Banned Book List, whereupon these busybodies in this government-sanctioned committee do actively lobby against the reading of certain salacious books, such as the outrageously blasphemous Are You There God, it's Me Margaret, a book that, when read by the adolescent girls for whom it was intended, incites riotous discussions about topics such as menstruation, hormonal changes, and other ghastly, wicked and altogether unspeakable matters.

In the end, facts apparently have no place in American society; rather most of these people would much rather cling edgily to their pernicious delusions and elaborate confabulations than face any semblance of what really is or, in other words, reality.

Replies to This Discussion

Why yes Christina I can clearly see that you are such an honest moral person with such a brilliant insight about all things.

I suppose that might explain why you Falsely declare yourself to be an operator of a touring business and an owner and booking agent on the Living Blues website. How you masquerade as an Educator regarding blues and the plight of the Black man in America.

Since I once knew you personally and celebrated at your house, I also know that your padded, hallucination of a fabricated resume is nothing more than your ego trying to impress others of

something you are Not or have No experience doing.

My favorite thing about you Christina "Harlow" Marlowe is your delusion that everyone always knows what they are doing and can Never be Forgiven. You are the opposite of the mythology of Jesus in every way, not a healer or forgiver, but a self absorbed Bipolar Princess with a mouth that roars as loud and painfully as any jet engine or leaf blower. You are a hurter not a healer. You are living off the the taxpayers of the country gives you plenty of time to rant and rave about how all the politicians should be bent over and take it in the ass, as I'm sure you must have in your younger days.

Love Charlie Swallow Peacock

To the other fine members of this forum please excuse the personal nature of this reply,

but anyone who rants as vehemently against things, and treats people on a personal level as she does

deserves some exposure as to how grandiose and manic her highly medicated ego really is.

In the end, facts apparently have no place in American society; rather most of these people would much rather cling edgily to their pernicious delusions and elaborate confabulations than face any semblance of what really is or, in other words, reality.

Just now catching up. With YOU. You're an IDIOT-Thug; I don't need to explain myself to the likes of you, but in this case suffice it to say that I did indeed, long ago, TRY my hand in those Blues businesses. I failed. So the fuck what? At least I TRIED.